erin & jay: scarring, marring
by penwielder62
Summary: there are bad days and there are days that carve into your skin and burn against your soul. some things, erin and jay will never forget. (fifth in the original posting order of my cpd metas.)


**mild content warning** for mentions of blood and physical beatings.

(credit to the creators of _chicago p.d._ where it is due.)

* * *

jay being five paces away when erin takes three rounds, three rounds that slam her back into the shipping containers towering around them. his mind going white when she slumps against the crates, lifeless. surging forward without a second thought to grab her by the vest and drag her to safety. _officer down, officer down. lindsay's down_.

(feeling his gut heave at the way her head lolls when he hauls her across the floor. _hang in there, erin. stay with me._ )

 _where are you? talk to me, halstead_. voight's growl being the last of jay's worries, beyond caring about his boss because the gunfight is still in progress and nothing matters except getting his partner out of harm's way.

erin gasping, gagging, trying to get air into her lungs. jay ripping down her jacket zipper to search for the bullets, one hand behind her head to keep it tilted back, airway clear. his shoulders slumping in relief when they're all lodged in her kevlar. _we're clear, she's good, it's all vest_.

jay smoothing erin's hair back to calm them both, talking her through deepening her breaths. him trying not to register how white her face is, focusing instead on the green of her eyes as she stares up at him. _you're going to be fine_.

will giving erin the all-clear when they get her to the hospital later. _you should just need a few days off work to let the bruising subside and just remember not to do any full-contact tackling in the next couple of weeks_.

(neither she nor jay are amused by his quip.)

jay taking erin home after they stop by the district to fill out reports–a constant, necessary evil, even though voight had excused them for the night. _movie or bed_?

erin pausing to glance at him as she navigates around her apartment, setting down her keys and throwing her jacket over the couch. _bed. i think will slipped something in my pills._

jay laughing. erin leaving him to lock up and kill the lights. her struggling just to get her shirt off and him coming in time to help ease it up over her head, tossing it towards the hamper.

the bruises are mottled, purple messes across her chest. jay's jaw tightening as he looks at them and erin just watching him. _hey. i'm okay. this is why we wear the vests_.

jay nodding, once. _yeah. you want a shower? i'll scrub your hair for you._ and erin smiling, leaning up to kiss him for a lingering moment. _that sounds amazing_.

and later, erin falling asleep with her cheek turned into jay's shoulder and him lying awake in the darkness for hours, fingers brushing over her hair, struggling to wrap his mind around the frailty of life.

/

jay not knowing where they went wrong. just remembering that one moment, everything was going according to plan, the next, burning pain erupts from the back of his head and he's going to his knees, a wave of blackness washing up next. (her shout of his name is lost.)

jay waking up to find his hands handcuffed together above his head, cloth between his teeth. getting his gaze to focus just to find erin duct-taped into a chair, her knuckles white where she grips the arms of her prison. there's fear in her eyes that he knows is reflecting back at her.

they're wearing masks and they don't ask any questions. erin clenching her teeth together around her gag with the force of will that has kept her alive this far when one drives his fist into her jaw— _again_ and _again_ and _again_ —and she's spitting blood when he lets up.

(the handcuffs bite into jay's wrists and blood dribbles down his arms when he thrashes, fighting to get loose. _leave her alone, do whatever you want to me_. but his words are stifled.)

jay being relieved when they finally turn on him, even if he's biting down after the third blow, and he can hear erin, muffled by her own gag, trying, screaming at them to stop. ( _we'll always have each other's backs_. her hand on his wrist, grief in her eyes. _always_.)

jay losing track of the time. his existence narrowing to the spaces where skin breaks and bones crack or when they let him—them—breathe. jay using every particle of his dwindling strength to try and break free when their captors cross back to erin. snarling through the haze of pain until they shut him up with steel-tipped boots.

erin trying to do the same for him, tears of desperation, helplessness, choking her more than the bile in her throat as she strains against her bindings, scarce able to see their visceral abuse of her partner through the swelling damage to her face.

jay getting lost somewhere between their blacked-out prison and afghanistan, struggling to remember if he's fighting to protect erin or mouse, and the marines—voight—his c.o.—intelligence unit—how're they going to find them here? the sand, the heavy rain, washes away evidence.

erin trying to spit out her gag when she sees jay disconnecting, watches him trying to lash out just to get beaten into submission again, over and over. her throat is raw and her arms throbbing with her efforts to get free.

(then, they just stop.)

one of the two shoving her chair over on the way by. stopping to slam his boot into her ribs—once, twice, again—erin gagging on blood, fighting just to breathe, and then they're gone and all that remains is silence.

(she doesn't know how long she lays there, willing herself to stay present, trying to make noise to rouse jay but he's so still and it hurts so badly.)  
(there is a small eternity in that time. later, she will know it was hours.)

erin scarcely being conscious when the door opens again. a near-inaudible whimper leaving her because she's been watching jay slowly bleed for a lifetime and _please, no more, he can't take anymore_.

erin registering the " _clear_!" and there's rough fingertips against her throat, then pulling the blood-encrusted gag from her teeth, and hank's voice, rasping her name.

antonio speaking in the background, _halstead? c'mon jay. cut that chain, ruzek. you got me, al?_ and erin feeling her own bonds being released, hank keeping her from collapsing on the floor. a groan of pain escaping her when her cramped muscles stretch.

hank working hard to keep his emotions in check as he slips an arm around his girl's shoulders—they're going to pay, they will _beg for their lives_ for this—helping her sit up and barking at atwater to call for an ambo.

erin's head falling against hank's shoulder, wishing for unconsciousness because every motion, breath, sets a new fire in her body, but grasping at clarity despite it. _jay, hank. where's jay_?

 _ambo's on its way, kid. you're going to be fine_. antonio's got halstead. erin gripping his arm, using it to try and leverage herself into a position to see. _i need—to see him, hank. he saved my life. please, hank_.

 _no, erin,_ and hank restraining her with a careful hold and tears leak from the corner of her eye because it hurts, it _hurts_ , and _please, hank_. ( _it's going to be okay._ )

erin barely cognizing being handed off to alvin by hank when the ambo arrives, focus drifting when the iv is in and painkiller floods her system. (but jerking at odd intervals when she catches a noise, bracing for a blow, jay's name on the tip of her tongue.)

hours later, hank rubbing her hand between both of his, jaw tight to keep the emotion threatening at bay. not being able to look at erin's swollen, bruised face without feeling anger crash through him, but doing so anyways. _what happened, erin_?

erin shaking, every nerve still raw, pain lancing through her with every breath, as she tries to put that hell into words for him—but there are none. _they wouldn't say anything, they never said anything, they just kept–why wouldn't they stop? his blood was everywhere, hank_.

erin sneaking past hank where he's fallen asleep in a chair by her bed. (she was never able to slip out as a teenager.) her head–her _everything_ –throbbing but a greater need outweighing the pain.

erin holding her ribs as she limps through the quiet hospital in her bare feet, familiar enough with the layout to find his room without help. forcing her lungs to expand with air when her hand is on the door.

it's another blow, another crippling strike to her gut, to see jay with clear eyes. (where her bruises are purpling, his are blackening and his breath rattles in his chest.)

erin holding onto the doorframe when emotion closes her throat, but not having the strength to cry. antonio rousing from the short couch where he sleeps and her starting when he enters her narrow range of vision. _you should be in bed, erin. he hasn't woken up yet_.

erin croaking out, _i need to see him, antonio_. and him hesitating before nodding and stepping close to ease an arm around her waist, helping her to the chair without comment.

erin sliding her hand into jay's, gripping tight even though he doesn't hold back, aware of antonio behind her. gaze lingering on his face, trying to find _jay_ beneath the swelling and the bruising. ( _you shouldn't have done that, not for me_.)

jay coming awake the next morning and fighting against the blankets trapping his legs. _erin–where's erin_ – and antonio slapping a hand onto the call nurse button then forcing jay's shoulders back to the bed. _stop! erin's safe, you're both safe. you've gotta take it easy_.

erin pressing her forehead to her knees, a shudder of relief going through her, when antonio leans in to tell hank and her that jay woke up, that will's with him.

hank walking with erin through the hospital, her hand through his arm for support–they both know it says a lot that she doesn't refuse it.

pausing, searching for his gaze with her own.

 _erin_ , and her name sounds the same way it did when she walked in with empty hands and a box of lies to bring him home—like she's his saving grace.

(hank quietly ordering the room cleared. will and his attending nurse complying without fuss. antonio and hank standing just outside to wait.)

 _never do that again. never_. erin trying to keep her composure, hands curling into fists. _you don't get to put me before you. not like that_.

jay remaining quiet long enough to make erin's resolution waver. him letting out a breath before seeking eye-contact. _i'd do it all again. to protect you, i would do it all again. you know that_.

erin hearing it in the words he doesn't say, feeling it in her own veins, and refusing to acknowledge it. _it doesn't mean i accept it. they could've killed you_.  
( _and i would've had to watch_. she doesn't let it slip out.)

jay reaching out to her and erin stepping forward, sliding her palm into his, letting him pull her close. his fingers easing over the injuries to her face, tucking her hair behind her ear. _it's going to be fine, erin. no children's birthday parties for a few weeks, but otherwise–_

relieved mirth bubbling in erin's chest as she leans into her partner's touch, holding his wrist because she needs to know he's there.

(the unsaid words linger, unescapable, but erin can't bring herself to give them voice.)

hank driving erin home from the hospital that night and kim meeting them there. erin accepting a hug from voight, nodding at his gruff _i'll be by to see you in the morning_ before going inside her apartment building with kim at her side, a calm anchor.

erin not anticipating how hard it would be to go home. the recycling is full, the dishes dirty in the sink from when she'd dragged jay into the shower with her instead of him cleaning that morning like usual and it strikes her hard in the gut. his shirt is hanging off the back of the couch— _function and form_ —and kim grabs her arm when erin's knees weaken with grief.

( _how did this happen_?)

(the tidal wave of emotion switches directions again. she swings between relief and torment on a regular basis, her heart struggling to keep up with the events of the last two days.)

kim calling atwater to get a phone to jay at the hospital. erin's fingers curling into her hair as she waits, his shirt draped across her knees. (she ends up wearing it later.)

jay voice being groggy when he speaks into her ear. _erin? what's wrong_?

erin squeezing her eyes shut, a shaky breath leaving her. _i love you_.

 _you couldn't have said that earlier? i love you. you know that. that's why you're always going to come first, erin._

 _i know._ hesitating, searching for anything more to say. _damn it. i love you. heal up and come home. i need you here._

across the city, staring at the ceiling with a peaceful smile, jay acknowledging her request with a low hum. _understood. erin?_

 _yeah?_

 _i love you._

(as it turns out, there is no "going home" for another two weeks. kim and platt take turns making sure erin doesn't drown or fall and hurt herself further while jay has his own revolving door of caretakers. neither is amused.)

going back to work is the hardest part, because that's when voight updates them on the the case.

they never find the perpetrators, never catch a break or pick up a trail. six months later, it happens again. twenty-four hours, a scared kid entering a police district. erin goes to the bathroom to vomit up her lunch. (neither of the partners survived.)

* * *

thank you for perusing this scrawl! comments, critiques, and concerns are always welcome.


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